


Pretty Vegas

by 221b_hound



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:48:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6309538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221b_hound/pseuds/221b_hound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The all-male, Vegas-style chorusline is a chorus boy short. Sherlock steps into the glittery line-up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Vegas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AtlinMerrick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtlinMerrick/gifts).



> Atlin and I are both superbusy, but not writing makes us restless and grumpy. To ease our suffering we challenged each other to write 221bs on alternative days, and gave each other prompts. 
> 
> I've already written my first, [Long Story, Short](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6273589) written to her first prompt. Then she wrote [ There's an East Wind Coming](http://archiveofourown.org/works/465462/chapters/14444302) in response to mine. 
> 
> So here is the next one! Hooray for writing!

The all-male, Vegas-style chorusline was a chorus boy short. Sherlock took the assault victim's place.

(Meanwhile, the flirty stage manager, spurned by John, sneered, 'Straight boy's got a bird, then?' John ignored him.)

Sherlock emerged, lithe body in silver-spangled midnight-blue spandex leotard, long legs in sparkly silver tights, feet in 6-inch silver heels, a plume of ink-and-silver feathers surging from his headpiece, a cascade of them foaming from his rump, face star-dusted, and lips blushing Mars Red. He was midnight, Milky Way and warrior, all.

John ignored Sherlock’s mesmerising, dancing rump with effort. He watched the audience from the wings, poised for action.

Sherlock’s piercing gaze swept the front row, even as he swivelled his hips and high-kicked.

Then, in time to the music, the denouement:

The man in seat A23 tapped an icon on his phone screen.

Sherlock shouted: 'JOHN!'

A sandbag, released remotely, fell with deadly speed.

John leapt from the wings to the stage to the floor.

Sherlock jerked his dancemates aside.

The sandbag crashed down where they’d stood.

A23 ran.

Sherlock leapt, beplumed and spangling, into the stalls.

John tackled A23 into laps A19-through-16.

The waiting police swarmed round.

Sherlock declared, ‘Here’s your stalker and wannabe murderer.'

John beamed at so-tall Sherlock, fingers fluffing up Sherlock's rump-feathers, and to the stage manager proudly said: 'He's my bird!’

**Author's Note:**

> If any of you lovely people are in Melbourne, Australia on 30 March, you're welcome to attend [this book launch.](https://narrellemharris.wordpress.com/2016/03/19/book-launch-30-march-2016-the-adventure-of-the-colonial-boy/)


End file.
